Article #75582

I had always longed for adventure, so when ‘the Captain’ invited me on a 4,000-mile sailing trip, I took the plunge. Then coronavirus hit, and I found myself stuck in a relationship as choppy as the sea we were navigating. Who exactly was the man I’d followed onboard?

I sat on the stern bench, the sun shining down on me. The bright orange wheel spun gently on autopilot, keeping us on course to the Marquesas Islands. We were a week out of Panama, and it had been a smooth passage so far, with everyone settling into their rhythm and responsibilities as we worked as a team to sail the 4,000 nautical miles. Then, the email from the Pacific Crossing network we were part of arrived.

Coronavirus had become a worldwide pandemic – borders were closing fast. There was nowhere to land. I was on a 47ft (14-metre) sailboat with my on-again, off-again boyfriend (the Captain), three strangers and a dog – the safest place on Earth, and the most stuck I had ever been in my life.